


You May Have Noticed

by CasualThursday



Category: DCU
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualThursday/pseuds/CasualThursday
Summary: Dick may not have been the most observant, but he was the one who noticed first.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the warning tags! There are some potentially triggering topics.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. If I did, why would I be posting it as fanfiction?
> 
> Many thanks to editors, [National_Nobody](http://archiveofourown.org/users/National_Nobody/pseuds/National_Nobody) and [potooyoutoo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/potooyoutoo/pseuds/potooyoutoo), for their help and encouragement!

Dick didn’t notice. Not at first. Not until he knew what to look for.

Dick remembered how each of them had complained about it at one point or another. How Jason dropped in through a skylight without a plan just last week. How he would always make snide comments and rile up his enemies and allies alike. How he had no fear of death, no acknowledgment of safety, no perception of his own mortality. Jason looked at near fatal wounds as minor inconveniences. Sometimes, it seemed as if he welcomed them.

It broadcasted arrogance and stupidity. Bruce was already a volatile mix of guilt, grief, disappointment, and anger, though he wouldn’t show any of that on his face. Damian was impatient. Tim was suspicious and disappointed that the boy he looked up to was nothing like the man he was today. Dick… Dick kept on thinking about that bratty teenager Jason used to be. And though Jason was much the same, with his sarcasm, his wry comments, and his cynicism, he was irreversibly changed. He was changed to the point that when he let the mask of normalcy drop, Dick found himself looking at a stranger.

Jason’s interactions with Alfred were fleeting, the rare moments that he stayed in the cave for more than the bare minimum. Dick wondered how much of a difference it would make.

 

Dick first realized when he had messed up. Like, a lot. And he felt doubly stupid because these guys were _small fry_. So getting caught was more embarrassing than anything else, even though they were henchmen from the biggest gang in Bludhaven.

They were smart enough to use zip ties, though.

Two of them had shuffled him into the corner when there was the sound of glass shattering followed by gunfire. They left him there, and Dick paused for only a moment before wriggling until he could use a concealed blade in his boot to cut through the plastic. He rotated his wrists gingerly and clambered to his feet.

He spat out a mouthful of blood and limped his way towards the way he came, looking for the exit. He was not looking forward to the inevitable lecture from Damian, the disappointed looks from Alfred, and Bruce’s stony silence. Tim he wasn’t worried about.

(Tim was forgiving to a fault; far too understanding about most things. Including not running away screaming after Jason entered the room, despite the numerous attempts on his life.)

He reached a corner and peered around it cautiously--well aware of the vulnerable state he was in--and froze.

It was Jason. He still had his Red Hood helmet on, but instantly Dick could tell something was _wrong_ . Jason stood completely still, his gun lowered to his side, shoulders slumped. Everything about his body language screamed “defeated,” despite the fact that Dick could make out ten ways Jason could get out of the situation he was in. It was like he was _asking_ to be killed.

Dick couldn’t move, watching as Jason reached up, opened his helmet with a hiss, and dropped it to the ground. From his viewpoint, he could make out no less than four manned machine guns, and at least ten other thugs facing Jason from the other side of the stand off.

This wasn’t just an uneven fight--they’d each faced worse--this was _suicide_.

Dick felt his insides go icy cold with dread, taking in in Jason’s expression. Calm. Decided. _Ready_.

He didn’t want to say goodbye to his baby brother for a second time.

Dick dashed out from behind his hiding place, ignoring the guns that swiveled in his direction and instead focusing on Jason. Jason, who seemed so focused before, so steady, looked openly horrified, and as Dick stumbled his way closer, he immediately took advantage of the confusion Dick’s sudden entrance caused to draw his pistols and send the four men behind the machine guns writhing on the ground from bullets to the knee. He kicked his helmet up into one hand and pushed it back on before rushing forward and hefting Dick over one shoulder as he tore towards the exit, talking furiously as he went.

“What the _fuck_ you doin’ here, Wingding?”

Dick grinned wryly, trying to smother a cough that rose up in his throat. “Got a hot date,” he said.

Jason snorted. “Then you’re into some kinky shit. Cosplay _and_ BDSM? Tell your date it take it down a notch.” He reached a motorcycle, sitting Dick down on it unceremoniously before climbing on himself. “Hold onto me.”

Dick nodded, well aware of the angry voices coming from behind.

Jason drove like a madman. If he wasn’t already sure he had a concussion, Dick would be sure that Jason’s driving skills left much to be desired.

Then Jason took a turn, heading towards Gotham, instead of Dick’s apartment (which he knew Jason knew about).

“Where’re we goin’?” Dick shouted over the wind.

“I don’t got time to babysit you, Circus Boy,” Jason responded, revving the engine and driving that much faster. “And with that concussion, you need a twenty-four hour watch.”

Dick grumbled, but rested his head against Jason’s back, reveling in the warmth. “Like a personal heater,” he mumbled.

He woke up some time later to someone slapping him. He jerked awake. “Woah, what was that for?” he cried.

Jason, helmet off, pulled back with a scowl. “You’re the one who fell asleep, dumbass. With a _concussion_.”

“Oops?”

“‘Oops’, indeed, Master Richard,” Alfred said, and Dick turned to smile weakly.

“I’m… sorry?”

Alfred let out a long suffering sigh. “Thank you for your help, Master Jason.”

“Sure, Alfred,” Jason replied with a grin, slipping his helmet on and giving a lazy salute. He walked back towards his motorcycle, and Alfred leaned to speak in Dick’s ear.

“Master Bruce and Young Master Damian are on their way back from patrol,” he said in explanation.

Dick nodded slightly, eyes fixed on Jason as he sped out through the tunnel.

He seemed his normal self and Dick wondered for a moment if he imagined it.

 

Sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to Jason’s hospital bed, Dick wondered about a lot of things.

Like how Jason ended up there, hooked up to half a dozen wires and tubes.

And if he could have done anything to change it.

Barbara had told him plainly that there wasn’t, but Dick couldn’t get rid of that tingling feeling that there _was_.

Sure he hadn’t been there; but he had suspected something was wrong. He’d made sure that he checked in on Jason regularly, when both his job and patrol allowed it, made a point of letting Jason know that Dick cared about him. He’d even said it out loud, multiple times, but Jason had only pulled a face and told Dick to take his sappy bullshit and shove it. And, from the way Jason’s ears had burned red, he thought he had gotten through. At least a little bit.

But it had happened anyway.

Whenever they ran into each other on patrol, or worked together, Dick made sure to make sure Jason didn’t purposefully put himself in harm's way. He hadn’t figured on Jason taking the matter into his own hands.

It had been a text message. A simple text message. If Dick wasn’t already internally panicking about the whole situation and reading into things, he might of thought it strange but shrugged it off.

“Thanks for everything.” Three simple words, but they still sent shivers down his spine when he thought of them.

Dick had been about to meet some colleagues after work, but had instead bailed and raced to Jason’s apartment.

He’s pretty sure he scared the landlady for life when he came in and kicked down the door, but really, he couldn’t have cared less.

Not when he found what was inside.

Which led him to sitting by Jason’s hospital bed as he finally regained consciousness after the hours that had felt like days he had been waiting in that  godforsaken chair.

Jason woke slowly, eyes opening, and all he had done was let out a sigh, an exhausted, disappointed sigh, that had Dick swallowing a lump in his throat. Jason turned his head slightly, fixing Dick with an expression that was tired and sad, and Dick could feel the tears start to fall before he could stop them. Jason’s eyes widened, brows furrowing in concern, as he reached a hand over, slowly, too slowly, to pat Dick reassuringly on the arm. Dick let out a weak laugh.

“I should be comforting _you_ , Little Wing,” he said wetly.

Jason let out a weak scoff at that. “For not dying?” he asked bluntly and Dick felt his heart break into a thousand pieces all over again.

“No,” Dick croaked. “That you felt that you should.”

Jason sighed again, settling back against his pillows in resignation. “Couldn’t even do that properly,” he muttered bitterly.

“Don’t _say_ that,” Dick snapped, causing Jason to look at him in surprise.

“Why not?”

“Why not?! Why _not?!_ ” Dick shouted, before trying to calm himself. He let out a deep breath and squeezed Jason’s hand. “Did you think it wouldn’t hurt me? Hurt any of us?”

Jason’s mouth twisted and he tugged at his hand. Dick refused to let go.

“I’m… I’m tired, Dick,” Jason whispered finally. “I’m so fucking tired.”

Dick bit his lip and continued to hold Jason’s hand.

“The voices, in my head, they’re so loud....” Jason was quiet for a moment. “When I was dead, at least it was quiet.”

“What are they saying, Jay?” Dick asked softly.

“They’re saying… _you should be dead_ . That I should have stayed that dead. That I poison everything I touch. That I’m fucked up and that one less fuck-up like me would make the world a better place--” Jason cut himself off suddenly, rolling onto his side and curling up into a ball, hiding his face in his knees. “Why don’t you _hate_ me?” he whispered.

Dick realized with a start that Jason was crying, and immediately maneuvered himself onto the bed and wrapping himself around Jason protectively.

“You should,” Jason continued. “I would hate me, too, if I were you. Hell, I hate me _now._ ”

“I don’t. I could never hate you, Jay,” Dick said firmly, feeling Jason shaking slightly in his arms. “ _Never_.”

“But I deserve it--”

“No, you don’t.” Dick squeezed Jason tightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice it sooner.”

Jason went still. “What? No, that’s not--”

“I don’t want you hurting, okay?”

“You’re not _responsible_ for me--”

“I _know_ that. Still doesn’t mean I wish it had never happened.” And that was true. Jason wasn’t the type of person to ask for help. He grew up on the streets, where asking for help was a sign of weakness, where you hit first and asked questions later. The cries for help had been in his behavior, without Jason even being aware of it, and they were ones that Dick, and everyone else, had missed.

Jason shifted until they were face to face and wiped furiously at his eyes, tear tracks clear on his face. “So you shouldn’t feel guilty about it.”

Dick opened his mouth to retort, but Jason shook his head. “Just _don’t_. Or at least try.”

“Then you have to try, too.”

Jason averted his gaze. “It’s not that easy,” he murmured.

“I know, Jay, just… give it a try? We’re all here for you.”

Jason groaned and pushed weakly at Dick’s shoulder. “Of course you called home.”

If Jason realized his slip, he didn’t show it, and Dick wasn’t going to go pointing it out.

“I told Alfred. And Tim.”

“What the _hell_ are you doin’, calling Replacement?”

Dick glared. “He’s part of the family, too.”

“And also a complete stranger, even if you’re all buddy-buddy with him--”

“He asked _me_ if he could help. Just… give him a chance, okay?”

Jason scowled and pushed at Dick’s shoulder again. “I’m tired.”

Dick chuckled, moving back until he was sitting in his chair again. “Okay. I’ll be here.”

“Watchin’ me sleep? You’re gaining Batman levels of creepy,” Jason mumbled before shutting his eyes and was out like a light.

A moment later, a soft knock came from the door, and Tim poked his head in. “How is he doing?” Tim asked quietly coming to stand next to Dick.

“He woke up, but he really needs help, Timmy,” Dick replied.

“Do you think he’d let me?”

Dick shrugged. “You’re pretty convincing. And persistent. If anyone could, it’d be you.”

Tim nodded and stared at Jason’s peaceful sleeping face for a moment, and his face turned red.

“What?” Dick asked.

“Nothing, it’s just--” Tim turned redder when he met Dick’s gaze and quickly averted his gaze. He cleared his throat. “I’ve never seen him without the helmet. In person, I mean.”

Dick grinned.

 

A year later, Tim asked Jason on a date at a very awkward moment, with most of the Team in the room. Jason’s mouth fell open, and he had blushed and stammered while Tim stared at him as if he was the greatest thing in the universe.

Dick bought Tim and Jason a “Congrats on the First Date” cake with some of the bet money he won.

He had called it, after all.


End file.
